Birds, Bunnies and Bears, Oh My!
by Geno77
Summary: Hello! My name is Mike. Mike Schmidt. And I have just one big problem right now: I think I'm going insane.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, my name is Mike. Mike Schmidt. I'm about 30, live by myself, and do practically any legal job I can come across that people will hire me for. Which, aside from a few single dollars for dishwashing for 5 hours, you'd be surprised at how few jobs like that there actually are without a college degree. So much for '_land of opportunity'_, eh? Well, it could be worse. I could be mistaken for a homeless person, beaten up and almost thrown into a river whilst also being showed into a sack with jagged rocks and broken bricks. Again.

Did I mention that I don't exactly have high standards when it comes to getting by? Because I don't. Because that just gets someone bigger and stronger and richer and better than you in every way in society's eyes ticked off at you somehow down the line and you end up almost thrown into a sack with broken rocks like an unwanted puppy.

Did I mention that I have a tendency to repeat myself? Because yeah. That too.

But back to the real reason I'm doing this. I... there's no easy way to put this, but, I think... that I might be going crazy.

I can't sleep at night without hearing this weird laughter, feeling like I'm getting constricted by snakes made out of barbwire strings, stuck in pitch black nowhere. And when I apply to work at this place, I get looks like the people there already know me or something. It's freaking me out, since I've never even been to that part of town before, yet this one janitor asked me how I could keep coming back, week after week.

Maybe I'm not crazy, but that would mean everyone else in that restaurant is, including the manager... And surprisingly, though I am okay with that, I kind of doubt that many people would be crazy about the same thing so consistently.

Freaky as the people there can be, what's really kind of off-putting are the attractions. These weird animal things, some sort of robots or something. Animatronics, I think this one dopey sounding fella told me. Or was that a pamphlet? Why do I feel like that duck had cupcakes watching me?

Ah, I'm just being paranoid- Oh yeah, I'm a paranoia fanatic, according to anyone with a medical degree who's had a session with me has concluded. Not really nice, but hey, at least it's consistent.

Unlike my memory.

I seem to forget things all the time, and with these nightmares as of late, maybe it's a good thing this new job is at night. I hear it's not as boring as staring at a tablet and trying not to play Angry Birds sounds on the surface. I start my job tomorrow, so here's to hoping those guys are right.


	2. Chapter 2

(As a head's up, yes, this is in Mike's POV, just to be clear.)

I think this was a bad idea.

Not just an '_oh, I forgot to grab my wallet'_, or '_gosh, the fridge was unplugged and all the food spoiled'_ bad, oh nononononononono**-NO**. This was on the level of '_I forgot to lock the window and now my TV and microwave are gone'_ and reaching up higher still to '_Why didn't I just say yes to that drink, now I'm stuck to the side of a building at one in the morning without a proper hangover to stop my heart from beating this fast'_.

...Yeah, I have had weird experiences in my life before. It comes from going to college and in the middle of the first year getting introduced to alcohol for the first time ever. If my memory problems weren't annoying before that, it's why they're near insufferable now.

Despite all the trouble being under the influence of clear liquid in a glass has given me before, however, I'd take it almost any day over this right now.

It's not even 2 in the morning yet and I'm hallucinating. Except I haven't taken anything to be the cause of these hallucinations, hence my pondering insanity being at fault and really, _really_ wanting a good few shots of vodka. Nothing knocks me out quicker more pleasantly, even if I do wake up lost in the middle of random hallways- often hospitals. Don't ask, I don't have a clue either.

Wait, wasn't I saying something before about my job? Oh! Hey, look at that! It's on the camera again! That's right! I'm utterly _terrified right now!_

So much for boring- when I said I wanted interesting, I didn't mean freaky living machines! And they keep trying to come over, almost as if to see me or something. Like heck that I'm risking that, with all the fiction I've come across in my lifetime! I know better than to let my guard down around stuff like these... whatever they are. I'm just lucky that I got the buttons down again after frantically pressing all of them at once the first few times.

I think it was the bunny that kept coming by, by the way the step sounded and the color, but it was really dark and hard to see. I'd turned down the lights to conserve power, and dimmed the tablet while hiding underneath the desk. Like I said before, a completely paranoid idiot that looks stupid. Well, a completely paranoid idiot that's gonna get through tonight by looking stupid, anyways.

The only reason I'm under the desk in the first place was because I caught sight of the- I'm sure it's the bunny now- the bunny's eyes last time I'd shut the door. Those red eyes...

Shivering from the cold- oh yeah, I'd cut the heat too, since that seemed to be giving a drain, and I had a long sleeve and pants outfit on anyways- I settled in my little crunch I'd compressed myself into to fit the small space meant for legs, not entire bodies. Letting out an exhale, I could pretty much see my own breath, something amusing amidst all the creepy stuff going down around me. If the rest of the week is _anything _like tonight...

I realized that I was yawning when my jaw gave an alerting crack from the stretch. I could feel my eyes drooping, that I was slowly falling asleep, and couldn't do a thing about it with how my limbs were completely numb. Maybe I'd be safe, in my oh so clever hiding spot, I thought as I fell unconscious. Completely forgetting that if I wasn't awake, there was no one to press the buttons to close the door...


	3. Chapter 3

(Not Mike's POV, trying something different this chapter. Tell me what you think.)

~~~_Loud footfalls sound as the maker of the noise attempted to be quiet, echoing in the somewhat bare room. They peeked their head inside, looking around. A bit frustrated, but undeterred, when failing to spot what they looked for, they walked softly inside, managing for some reason to make less noise on the tile. Perhaps it was just from years of practice that made the checkered surface easier to creep upon out of instinct or habit. _

_Whatever the case, they took to looking around, in corners and behind boxes that had obtained rather thick dust coats, almost like animals would in winter, only the dust never completely went away. Finally, they found what they were looking for. Or rather, _who_. A pair of red eyes sparkled in excitement for a moment, pausing to take in just how helpless the person looked there, all curled up... And shivering. And drooling a little._

_But nonetheless, fairly adorable in how the tablet was cuddled like a stuffed animal, hat fallen down onto their knees and acting as a crude pillow. It wouldn't take much to get the human out of there, and all they needed to get was in the back. Large, purple-furred hands reached down, accompanied by a metallic, rusty creak-~~~_

"GAH! Wha- where-? Whua-!" Mike jolted upright, a chill going down his spine at the sudden awakening. Looking around, he spotted an impatient looking man standing right in front of him, tapping their foot. Their hand was still raised, giving him the impression of what had woken him up out of the deepest sleep he'd managed to get in _weeks_, and why the left side of his jaw was sore.

Moving his torso up from the desk's surface to stretch, he felt and heard an array of cracks and clicks that all brought a tingly warmth with them. With a tired but conscious smile, Mike looked up at the man, leaning forward on his crossed arms as they pressed into the wood of the desk. "Yessir?" he slurred with a yawn he only realized to try and cover up midway.

The sigh of the manager was not a particularly encouraging one reassuring one to the new employee who had everything to lose. Namely, the pay he'd only get if he stayed the entire week.

"You wouldn't get up, and I needed to make sure that you were still-" the Manager suddenly cut himself off, eyes darting for a second, before regaining his composure. Mike, still out of it and half asleep, completely missed the unease and change of tone becoming forced, like one did when lying with a big smile. "Anyways, did you sleep the _entire night_ instead of working?"

"Oh, no sir!" Mike's focus picked up at the prospect of potentially losing his only job. It'd been the first break he'd gotten in too long, and if he couldn't maintain rent, or support his minimum as it was shopping necessities... "I just fell asleep, not 20 minutes ago, at most. Just got tired, not used to staying up this late is all!"

The manager gave Mike a sweep over with his eyes, being quick enough about it that the employee, who was steadily walking up more and more, didn't catch on. Aside from a deepening crease in his forehead that could have been due to agitation, worry, or any other number of things, he added curtly,

"Make sure that it's _only_ that long, Schmidt. And make sure to have that tablecloth washed before it gets used again."

Mike felt confused, blinking. "Wait, what tableclo-" but the man had already walked away, at a surprisingly quick and brisk pace, a door slam cutting the newbie off from his question. Feeling puzzled, Mike started to lean back onto his chair, when something bunched up behind him. As he turned to look back, a bunch of bright white and red grabbed him attention.

Draped over his shoulders was a red and white checkered tablecloth, just as his boss had mentioned. Mike didn't have a clue as to how it got on him- he hadn't left the room the entire night. He hadn't dared, not when-

Wait, how had he gotten out from under the desk? Last he recalled, he'd been cold, exhausted from being afraid for several hours straight and hyped up on adrenaline as a squirrel on marshmallows, and very numb from forcing himself into a tiny space in attempts to hide. Certainly not as comfortable as how he'd woken up as, in his chair and arms laid out over the desk, probably snoring again.

Confused and worried, Mike started to pull the tablecloth off of him, with minor difficulties as his muscles complained at their use so soon again. He got up with a groan, further stretching all 4 of his rather long limbs- or at least he'd always thought so- and when he rolled his head back to crack his neck some, he felt his hat slip off of his messy hair.

Turning around and bending down to pick it up, Mike also noticed that a folded piece of paper had been placed in his hat, peeking out from being displaced from the fall. Curious, he looked around to see if anyone was there, before unfolding it to see what it said.

His whole body stiffened, mind freezing in place before shooting off into what felt lie the past. As he stared at the paper, not reading what it said yet, a cold sensation gripped at his chest and throat. The lights seemed to flicker, though already dim as they were, and his breath was visible again.

Had he looked behind him, he would've seen a monster. A horrifying mass of metal and matted, rotting-away fur and degrading, somewhat exposed wire, with arms outstretched in an overhanging manner towards him. Jaw half-way unhinged, head angled and eyes void, pitch darkness held in circles that were unseeing and yet tracked everything that went on. It was almost glitch, in how it moved from solid, to see-through, to a mass of malevolent static in a basic outline of what it appeared to be. Transitioning almost too fast to see, a voice almost about to speak in his ear, when-

-the lights returned to normal, Mike blinked, a shiver traveling down his back from his shoulders as the strange, nauseating sensation passed him by, nothing recalled but some strange fear invoked. He shook his head cleared, and he paused, checking over his shoulder.

The monster was gone, like a ghost. Never seen, never heard, never there before it's already departed.

Giving a shrug, Mike chalked it up to his own paranoia again, and read the note. To his surprise and unease, it read, in a rough, hasty handwriting, having been folded multiple times, and off center for most times at that, 3 simple words:

"**_Welcome Back, Mike._**"


	4. Chapter 4

Waiting, waiting, waiting, time couldn't GO any slower if it tried! He couldn't figure out what was taking the sun so long- come on! He wanted to go, he wanted to see what was going to happen! The clock was nearly broken-

Was it ticking? He couldn't hear it ticking. Maybe if he hit a few times-

"Would you cool it, already?"

The feminine voice knocked him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Turning around, he saw her, frowning.

"YOU try being calm when you have so little time before- You're one to talk!" he swung the conversation around in subject. "Always taking to cooking when you can't stand to wait for something! Not like your customers are coming out of the woodwork for that stuff you try and pass off as food!"

She looked stunned for a moment, before her blue eyes widened and blazed in anger.

"W-well YOU try being a chief with little to no variety in ingredients! This place isn't big enough to get enough income for me to stretch my legs in a different department, you know that!" she bit back, but started loosing significant steam. "I... I could try doing something else, but you and I BOTH know that that's just a road to failure and rejection again."

He knew alright. He'd botched his own job before to the point of it nearly being the end for him. He'd seen her try and end up almost the same way as him, but at least _she_ had the kitchen as an outlet.

As the world seemed to just move forward, he couldn't seem to keep pace, no matter how fast he could run. Like he was _always_ on stage, trying everything he could to keeping the best impression, but tiring too soon for anyone's liking.

First one job, then the next. Small things, little things, that slowly erode at his positivity and will. Even when he kept trying, it was likely that he'd last too much longer at this new gig and schedule that the last one he'd screwed up. The one he'd taken the blame of a friend for so she could keep going at her job, when really they just both got fired and she...

Shaking his head clear, he looked at the clock again, this time without muttering to himself, to the chief's smug delight.

It was closer now than before to when he'd have to go. He couldn't stop the strange excited/nervous sensation that played across his nerves, like a building melody of uncertainty and expectancy. It was jarring, yet somewhat pleasant, he reflected as he bid his friend goodnight and headed off.

It wasn't long before he was in his little room, and he sat down on one of the boxes with a sigh. Sure, maybe this wasn't going to e his night, but there'd be still others, surely?

'_I mean, if we've been able to string him along for such a long time, what would be the difference in tonight of all-'_

His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of creaking footsteps against the old floor, trying to be silent but unable to do so. Stiffening, he peeked out as discreetly as possible, knowing not to catch whatever-it-could-be's line of sight. Weapon ready- he knew it was against rules, but loopholes are marvelous for many reasons.

When he saw what- _who_ it was, however, he felt himself lock up, dread and confusion swirling through his head as the reality of the situation quickly hit hard.

Mike looked around, feeling like he was being watched as the time till his shift slipped away. Clutching a folded piece of cloth- _the table cloth_. He called out timidly, "I-is anyone th-there? H-hello?"

Only to be met with silence holding more apprehension than he was aware from behind the curtains on the stage. Foxy silently gulped.

AN: Okay, just as a head's up of sorts, it's not the easiest to keep a consistent schedule, as I've learned recently. So these will have a 3 chapters per week, _every OTHER_ week. At least, that's what I'm planning on and will try to keep to. Just so you know, I haven't forgotten about this, it's just that I'm playing about with perspective and how best to reveal- well, the reveals in-store. Thank you for your current patience, and I hope to continue to entertain!

PS-Sorry for the mix-up earlier on by the way! This time the chapter's here to stay.


	5. Chapter 5

"Darn it! I'm late, I'm late, I'm LATE!" Mike half-muttered half-shouted as he bounded down the streets of the town, trying to get to the dinner before his shift officially started. Sure, he was supposed to get there at least 10 minutes early, but after the night HE'D had? Mike figured he could afford to take 5 of those 1 minutes off to prepare himself to face whatever weird stuff was going to happen _this time_.

However, what he hadn't planned for was falling asleep at the bar. For a good 4 hours straight he'd been out cold, only to wake up with a marker-stache and the remnants of his half-drunken drink either soaked into his hair or stained his shirt.

Mike, as you could've guessed, wasn't exactly too happy about the waste, and even less so about the mustache. Luckily, it wasn't sharpie like the last time he'd made the mistake of falling asleep somewhere other than his own place. It came off after practically slapping himself in the face with a towel over and over again after covering it with hand soap and cold tap water and rubbing so hard it left his skin tingly and red in the mirror.

Not fun, but not as bad as trying to get those sharpie tattoos off his arms those other 20 times he'd been drinking and suddenly woke up to find hours gone by.

He'd forgone the shower he'd been planning- not like there was anyone who'd be there to care what he looked like or smelled, instead only going back to his place via taxi to get that tablecloth he'd gotten cleaned.

Having no such luck on the way _to_ work, however, he'd tried just running there. So far it was working. The small benefits of an adrenaline rush, the little things you appreciate when the only reason you don't get fired is because you nearly break through the front door. Of course, also to only to trip on the rug and fall face first onto the lobby's floor.

Getting up slowly, he took a deep breath to calm himself down. First things first, he had to put the table cloth away.

He walked through the hall, glancing through the ajar doorways, getting a foreboding sense, but nothing strong enough to be heeded.

When he passed by one wall with a few old drawings on it, however, there was a chill like a breath of air went across the back of his neck. Mike stopped for a moment, looking around him for what it could've been. He didn't see anything in particular the first time, but just as he was about to move onwards what he'd just seen clicked.

There'd been a figure- _there'd been a _**face**-

When he quickly turned around again, though, the figure and strange face was gone. Not a thing moved, save Mike as he felt uneasy and watched. _'Maybe THIS is what those robot-things feel like with the cameras and everything_...' he considered as he went on his way, stil checking over his shoulder every now and again.

It was easy, finding the place he wanted to go. "Pirate's...Cove?" he questioned to himself, wondering what the heck a 'cove' was, before shrugging it off and started to open the door.

~~~

_First night on the job, might as well check out the place. Not like there was any danger. Whatever that dumb recording was blabbing about probably just went on about fire hazards and boring security stuff. Like locking all the windows and doors after hours or something basic like that._

_I'd only ever forgotten to do that -what, once?- at home, no problem. Besides, I was HUNGRY! And this was the quickest way to the kitchen, if I remembered that tour right._

_There was some sort of crashing sounds going on back in the office, but it was probably just a raccoon or rat or something. Animals got into the buildings around my place all the time, no matter how advanced the lock, so the idea wasn't that implausible._

_Whatever, I don't care. Food, NOW._

_This 'Cove' place didn't look half bad, though that bear thing was a bit weird. But it was just some attraction, nothing to worry about._

_Hey, the fridge WAS stocked! Sweet, a score! Even though it was mainly frozen pizza... eh, I've eaten worse. And worse frozen food._

_The oven would take too long to heat up, so I just thawed it a bit on the counter before finding a dull knife that was sharp enough to hack off a wobbly piece._

_I just hit it a few time on the corner of the counter to assure that it wasn't hard enough to break a tooth before taking it back outside to eat it. I noticed that the bear was gone- huh, even _weirder_. There were some faint noises, like yelling happening waaay on the other side of the restaurant._

_...maybe I SHOULD check that out... AFTER I finished this slice, though. I can barely focus on anything else. Just as I was closing my eyes, taking a bit of the food I wanted so badly, I saw something out of the corner of my eye._

_Did- did the curtain just _move_?_

_I don't get to know, suddenly feeling like the world was turned upside-down, ears ringing. The last thing I see being something red and __**yellow eyes**_**-**

Mike gasped, feeling himself shiver as a cold fear washed over him. His exposed arms were covered in goosebumps, and a prickling sensation played across his spine.

"_Wha..._What WAS that?!" he panted, taking a step back. His head ached, and he had the sense like he was spinning even as he shakily stood still. Leaning himself against the wall, he counted slowly until he could think straight and wasn't about to fall over from dizziness. Mike waited another minute, the clock ticking away somewhere in the building sounding loud against the silence; before pushing off the wall and going through the doors.

'Whatever _that_ was, it can wait till later. I've gotta get this put away before I can get to my office,' he thought, as he tried to locate a place he could put it away. He tried treading quietly, taking in the dimly lit room, save for the stage, which cast long shadows from the bases of the chairs and tables.

He could've sworn that he saw _something_ flicker about, something thin and small, but it was gone before he'd gotten a full glance-worth. Shrugging it off as best as he could, Mike heard the sound of wood and metal creaking. Chills playing down his spin as hundreds of unrealistic possibilities began building up in his head, he decided to see if anyone was there. Better to know that something dangerous is actually there instead of always waiting for the knife to drop when it might not even be there at all.

"I-is anyone th-there? H-Hello?"

He bit his lip in frustration, his voice coming out a lot more timid and afraid than he's wanted, but what was done was done. It even had the desired result: No response.

Just as he was about to let out a sigh of relief at his fears being proven unfounded and pointless, something caught the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw the bottom of the richly crimson curtain shift a bit back and forth. Looking up a little further, he could see an eye peeking out of a tiny hole in the fabric, staring right back at him.

'**_Yellow and Red  
The Nights Aren't Yet At Their End  
Time Slows for Us to Spend  
Tread Carefully Friend  
Don't Want You DEAD  
After All~'_**

**_AN:_** Next time, a return to Mike's first person perspective! Feedback on what's most enjoyable to read would help in structuring this. Also, that isn't _Mike _thinking those words in rhyme. Whoever guesses who or what is gets a virtual cookie! Hope you enjoy.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm hungry, tired, and experiencing headaches at consistent enough of a rate to blame a hangover. I'm trapped in a building at a job where robots can very easily kill me. I'm in a small dark space that was the worst possible place to run off to if anything in media is to be believed in the slightest.

In other words, I'm having a _FANTASTIC EVENING. __**HOW ABOUT YOU?**_

Well since I don't _really _care about the answer, how about I try to figure a way out of this situation instead. Would be the smartest thing I've done in the last week or so.

Though it was a _bit_ hard to see through solid wooden doors, lucky for me the sound got through just fine! An earsplitting mangle of a voice I thought only existed in my nightmares of getting lost in a heavy metal concert where every person I tried to get help from turned into a screamer jumpscare. Now I get confirmation that something like that actually was a thing in the real world. Oh joy_._

That's weird… It wasn't, coming _towards_ me. I could've sworn that it's seen where I'd bolted to- so idiotically it's hard to resist the urge to bash my forehead into the door. I mean, of ALL places, why oh WHY did I pick a closet?

I already knew that whatever had power over the course of history seemed to have some sadistic sense of humor when it can to deciding my particular brand of luck. But MAN, my instincts must _hate_ me for some reason. To the point that I'd think apart of me was trying to get myself killed tonight- though to my credit, because let's face it I need some, at least I didn't run straight _into_ the robotic thing that eye and that hook I glimpsed belonged to.

No, I'd managed to avoid running directly into the grip of things wanting to hurt me since the San Antonio incident a few months back- or was it years? It got hard to tell the passage of time when a creepy sense of deja vu lurks around you wherever you go.

Speaking of things that are creepy, it seemed that I'd stuck out again- the door slam was enough to get my attention that the robot-thing was gone. Or, at least, it'd left to do something or other. Nothing really of my concern so long as it didn't come back and find me, I guess.

...You know, the more and more I just sit here, the less tired and more nervous I'm getting. It feels like I know something bad is going to happen to myself soon if I don't try and get away. But where to? As much as I hate the fact that I chose a CLOSET, of ALL PLACES, **REALLY-!**

-and to cut myself off from another useless tirade I spared thee from, be grateful, this seemed to work as a hideout. For how long, I have no idea, but if it was just a one-time thing that my instincts were trying to get me 'dealt with' like I was apart of a mafia then maybe I should try and listen to them again. They got me through the first night somehow…

Before I can come up with some sort of fool-proof plan, I can feel my stomach give a twist. Oh, yeah, that's right… I only got halfway through dinner yesterday before I had to bolt or risk being late. And this morning had been spent on walking off those chills…Then at the bar, with just one drink… 2….5….however much that bill had cost me while I was having a small panic attack.

The mere fact that I had managed to go without eating for an entire day without noticing until I was almost confronted with a robot that would probably kill me surprisingly enough doesn't even phase me. Somehow, though I can't recall clearly, something involving being a tourist all of once and forced into karaoke ranked higher on the stress-no-eating-o-meter.

Why _yes_. My life is weird enough to the point of requiring one of those. I don't even know why someone would ask at this point.

Rumbling stomach, cramping limbs and paranoia in full gear for every creak meaning something was behind me was the last straw. If I was going to die, I might as well get a last meal, right?

Opening the door as quietly as possible was the hardest part. Every nerve was on end at how it still let out a faint creak that felt like a crash of breaking glass over an intercom. There wasn't any surprises waiting for me, -_finally!-_ other than the fact that the Cove was completely empty.

I'll admit it, there was a bit of cocky confidence in the fact that I'd managed to stay alive without even getting to the cameras yet.

Cameras.

…

OhnoI'mgonnalosemyjobifI'mnotinthereby6at_latest_I'msogonnagetfiredI'mnotevendoingmyjobI'mjusthidinginstupidfreakingclosests-

*Deepinhale*

***Deepexhale***

OK. So, thinking about it now, I probably can't get back to my office. And that means that I'm more than likely going to get fired in the morning. But in choosing between surviving and getting money…

Well, since I'm only going to get one of those 2 by the time the night is through, I'm going to continue to aim for the first one. Just as soon as I can get something to eat to make my stomach shut it.

The kitchen wasn't well lit, and there wasn't too much around that I could spot. I did find an apple though… Sort of out of place compared to everything else that was precooked and frozen. I'm not really picky about fruit when it doesn't have anything like razors inside of them like they used to that one time of the year, so it was quick work to eat it to the core.

It was the weird laughter that was echoing in my ears that bothered me though. It was too definite to be a memory, considering how shoddy my recollection is. The only that was left as an option wasn't one I wanted to acknowledge though, so after tossing the core into the trash, I checked around.

Still nothing. Maybe tonight wouldn't be entirely terrifying after all!

I slipped out into the hallway, feeling a smile on my face for the first time today. Missing what came through the entrance doors to the Cove that I had just exited. Not hearing the footsteps in the background that didn't follow after me. Not catching how the faint light was casting a shadow of mine in back of me as I walked quietly upon the old tiled flooring.

Failing to see how there were the thin lines of strings circled around my shadow's neck, like a noose ready at any moment to be pulled and tightened. In the background, though somehow I didn't hear it, laughter still whispered in my ears.

**AN:** FINALLY! I can hear at least a few people exclaiming. Maybe? Come on, 2? I'm settling with definitively 2. Anyhow, it's been a while since I wrote Mike in first person, and I need feedback as to whether or not it meshes alright with the other 2 entries where I was first person. I'm always looking to improve my style, but for this especially I'm trying to keep things consistent. For both practice and making it easier to read.

What are your thoughts on how it's progressing? Any guesses as to what will happen next? Where did Foxy go off to, and was it him who returned to Pirate's Cove right after Mike left? Answers to come soon, though I won't begrudge hints in the meantime~!


	7. Chapter 7

I'm surprised that customers don't get lost around here in the daytime, with how confusing these hallways are. I can't tell if I'm getting closer or farther away from the entrance, my office or the Cove, and at the moment, so long as I don't run into anything, I don't particularly care. If I could just find somewhere remotely SAFE to lay low for once, that'd be just _perfect_.

*_creeeeeaAAAKk~_*

OHGEEZWHATTHEHECKWASTHATI'MGONNADIE-!

Oh. It was just… a door. Opening a little more for no reason and looking dark and spooky and all evilly. Nothing suspicious, nope. _Nothing whatsoever_.

...Now is the time where I turn around and make a mad dash _away_ from the scary thing that probably has something inside that will kill me, as most sane and non-masochistic-inclined folks would agree. However, when there's the sound of something like metal gating across the walls of the hallway not too far away from the one you're in, '_away' _seems to make an intriguing transformation into '_towards'._

It was all I could do not to slam the door closed, holding my breath and hoping that I didn't make too much noise squeaking on the tiles as I'd jolted. Sneakers were the worse for stealth sometimes, I tell ya. Even on carpet, but hey, they're better than iron boots, those are not fun.

What was I saying about shoes? Oh, right! Noisy, was hoping I wasn't too noisy! Well, by the sounds of it, something heavy had stopped by the door for a moment. I feel no shame in admitting that I nearly screamed at the sound of tapping, though a little at the fact that I seemed to have picked yet ANOTHER CLOSET. **URGH**!

The tapping happened another 2 times, and then loud, weighted footsteps started walking away. I froze after letting out a sigh at how they stopped, but they also never resumed. It felt like a painful hour, just waiting for those footsteps to come back and the door to be opened…

It never did, though. Instead, my hand bumped into something buried behind me. It was pretty dark in here, so it wasn't exactly easy to make out. There were all sorts of weird-shaped objects around it that were kind of in the way, which took some effort to move around quietly.

Effort I usually wouldn't have expended, but when you're in half-panic mode and half-'I'm gonna die anyways, might as well do _something_ before that'-acceptance mode, interests change a little.

Most of it was hard and cold, which while weird, at least none of it was alive and potently lethal to my current status as living, so kudos there. By the time an hour must have gone by, there was only a few thing I hadn't relocated elsewhere inside the room-

Oh yes, and the best news of all! I _DIDN'T_ PICK A **CLOSET **THIS TIME! This is nowhere near the best thing that's ever happened to me, but given the circumstances, _it'll do!_ Sure, this room wasn't all _that_ big, but at least I could nearly stand up straight before hitting my head on something hard. Everything I didn't move away was already piled and packed together to the point that even _I _would regard as careless. Wonder what all of this is, but with practically no light there was no way to tell.

Now, as for that thing I'd uncovered…

Well, after feeling all around it, at least this thing was obvious as to what it was. Some sort of _box_, and a pretty large one at that. There was some sort of attachment that went along some of it, while feeling ripped off at some parts. It was dented, almost _bruised_ in some ways, and was of a light color- that much I could tell with how my sleeve was a bit more visible up against it.

Now all that was left was to see what was inside! Strange box that was in the middle of a pile of unknown, hard objects in a dark room cluttered with other unidentifiable things?

… This _was_ a bad idea, wasn't it.

Now that I was having second thoughts about opening it, it occurred to me just how strange all of this was. Not the robots and imminence of death and all _that_\- No, that trip to the bar had numbed the majority of those jitters.

No, what I mean was how convenient it was that the door to this room had creaked open. And yet there was no one or moving thing inside. How whichever machine had made those tapping sounds had started to walk away, before just seeming to disappear as far as I could hear.

After all the sounds I must've made when I got too into my task of moving all the stuff from around the box, it was either gone; or was severely taken aback in wondering just what the heck I could be doing in here in the dark.

No much, apparently, since I was too worried about whatever the heck could be in some discarded box.

But hey, YOU try living with a mix of paranoia and poor-decision making skills and check out if you'd do any better in my situation! At least I wasn't hyperventilating or having a panic attack like most people I know would.

You know what? I'm gonna open it. I'm not going to be afraid of a freaking _**box**_, when I've spent the last roughly 16 hours over the course of 2 days with deadly, living machinery! How bad could it-

_Noooooope_,nopenopenopenopenopenope, NOT falling into THAT sand trap of a cliché tonight, thanks! Let's just check this thing out and-

*_Chimes*_

Huh? Wh-what is that? I-is that, _music_? What time is it? Was _that_ the alarm to tell me that my shift was over?

I just sat there, in the dark little room, wondering what was going on and honestly the most confused I'd been in the last few days. The littlest bit of light that came from under the door seemed to flicker, like the power was fluctuating for some reason.

There was some sort of weird, faint sound that I could only get the echoes of. It sounded… frustrated? Upset? Annoyed? Something negative, that's for sure. I don't know how long I waited before I finally tried to open the door.

It was nerve-rackingly creaky, making me feel like I was about to get jumped at any moment. I glanced back at the box that I still hadn't opened yet. It was a worn down off-white, almost a light gray from scuff marks and dust having stained into the material. Dull red lines were on the sides, though it looked like someone tried to tear most of it off successfully.

Nothing really special, though certainly different from the plain brown cardboard ones I'm used to handling and moving around for others for the easy buck. It, it really _was_ big though. Seriously, what the heck could be IN there-?

"SCHMIDT! IF YOU'RE STILL HERE, GET YOUR HIDE OVER TO MY OFFICE. **NOW**!"

-aaaaand there goes my meal ticket for a few weeks! Just _peachy_.

Aw now I'm actually hungry again! DARN IT!

**AN:** I MADE IT! YES! Like Mike! More to come, I still owe you all another 2 chapters after all.


	8. Chapter 8

-À͟͠ņ͢͜͢d̵̨́͝ ̷͝Í̷͢͝'̶͟m̶̀͡ ͝͠Ǹ͜E̢̕̕҉V͞҉̛́͡É͢Ŗ̸͜͜ ҉̶̢͘̕g̶͢͞O̧͟͡͡i̧͡n̡͝ģ̛ ͏̴̢͘͞à̶̧͢͜w̴̷̛à̸̷͢͝-̷̡̛

E͡͠R̷͞R͠͞͝Ơ̴̕Ŗ́COR͠R͝ƯPŢ̛͡Ì͡O҉NE҉̧RR҉̧O̡̧R̢͏̴E͏̛́ŖR̸͏͏O͟R-̧͢͠

PAT͜CH҉IN̶G͟. F҉IXING͏. RE͏S̸TO̷RIN̛G:

_**That should do. Enjoy~**_

I trudged down the hallways, for whatever reason- sleep deprivation, hunger, hangover, burnt-out adrenaline run, take your pick or mix 'em up- nothing seeming particularly scary or creepy. All I could think about was how much I wanted something to eat and drink and take for making my returning, recurring migraine finally hit the road.

The only thing that was distracting were these occasional creaks that sometimes happened when I stepped down on a cranky tile section. It didn't even sound like normal tile sounds- more like a rusted hinge. I was exhausted, though, and too focused on getting through the berating I was bound to hear as soon as I got closer to that office.

After last night, the last thing I needed was someone yelling into my face and that was exactly what I was going to get. It was what I got every time I screwed something up, whether my fault or not, so there was absolutely no reason for this time to be any different, right?

Wha- hey! Ow! Something just nailed me in the back-! Wait, what's this on my face- Oh… It's, it's the wall. Have I been walking into a wall? By how sore my face feels right now and seeing marks on the wall behind me, I'm guessing no. No, I didn't just walk into a wall, I've been dragging my face against one; none the wiser until the turn when I just walked straight into it till my nose hurt enough to get my attention. Of course. Just~ like Rio, minus the flashy colors and ears ringing from by eardrums having exploded from just the preparations for Carnival…

Was that yellow?

I looked around, feeling a little more alert than I have all all night. There wasn't anything around, despite the bright blur still fresh in my mind.

...Now is the time to keep moving, I assume, so I'm just gonna hurry around that corner so I- de flygende-?! What is that?

I don't even- why is it- and the- it's just staring- what is this thing even DOING here?! Wasn't it supposed to be in that Cove place or something?! I'm pretty sure I saw it in the Cove or something yesterday! Just staring at one of the cameras... not blinking.

Maybe I could just, walk around it? Would that work? It wasn't doing anything-yet. I don't know what it could do, it wasn't really explained or explicitly shown like the others…

I was stuck in a staring contest, and I think I was losing.

AN: You'll see what Mike's got very, very soon. In the meantime, any guesses or questions so far?


	9. Chapter 9

The Manager didn't quite know how to react to what he saw as his hired night guard walked through his door. On one hand, he had been furious to find the office empty when he'd first come in this morning. That meant that the boy was finally dead, or had neglected the job. And everything considered, the latter was really the only option to believe at this point.

On the other, he was perplexed at the sight before him to reconsider his unchecked flare of anger at the employee. Which perhaps was extraordinary after everything he'd witnessed over his time as the owner to this magnet to misfortune.

Schmidt was cradling something in his jacket, hat atop of that. His face was smudged with dust and some sort of soot, dark bags under his eyes and some uneven 5 o'clock shadow across his face. All around, the young man looked worn and completely bedraggled.

When he had first hired Mike for the job, he could just tell that the boy had to work hard to get by. It wouldn't surprise him if the young adult had multiple jobs, so he'd always just assumed as such. By the state Mike was in right now, however, there was no way he'd be ready for another night shift in time and survive.

There was lucky, and then there was drawing 'shoot me!' on your forehead while facing a sniper at point-blank range. This was doing that while taunting the person holding the gun.

He let out a sigh, making his decision and cutting Mike off before the boy could really even start. "LOOK, as much as this is probably something I'm going to regret, I am choosing...not to fire you for this."

The utterly mind-blown expression upon the youth's face was almost too priceless to pass up a laugh, though he was able to keep talking to hold down the amused smile. He was still fairly ticked off, after all. "However, this behavior is inexcusable, and I expect better from you next time. This is the farthest I'm willing to yield before cutting my losses. I assume you understand?"

Mike nodded mutely, still not over the awe in the fact that he still HAD a job to begin with. This was the luckiest break he'd ever gotten… though maybe on the other hand not the luckiest whatsoever. Considering he had to come back in less less than 24 hours, and potentially go through that all over again.

He could feel a knot of unease, dread and hunger tighten at the thought, feeling so completely miserable that it was hard to resist just falling sideways and falling unconscious. Just some sleep- that's all he wanted. And food… and a soft bed. A bed. and heating. And alcohol. Oh so much alcohol that Russia might just drown in it.

"-So you're off for the night."

Mike did a double-take, having missed everything his boss had just monologued aside from the very end. Which didn't sound quite right, maybe the context revealed something more along the lines of reality, Mike thought to himself. As he asked for his employer to repeat that again, he found that it wasn't just his hearing going wonky. In fact, it was even better than he could've hoped for.

"I said, Mr. Schmidt, that as you are so obviously too impaired by physical exertion and sleep deprivation to adequately fulfill the requirements of your position, I am allowing you a temporary leave from your job. This period of time is to extend no longer than a maximum of 2 days, and should it exceed such limitations, then I am afraid that under policy I will be constrained to fire you when next we meet. You are to take this time strictly for recovery purposes, and in no way are allowed to goof off in any manner which would reflect badly upon this establishment as we currently support you."

The Manager pinned Mike with a stern, warning stare. "I will personally take over this position for half of the allotted time, as I am a very busy man and I have other things to do and no one currently to take over your duties briefly for during your time of absence. So you're off for the night."

If there was such thing as an actual heavenly chorus, one was going off inside Mike's head right about now. He was practically numb from disbelief and a joy he wasn't sure he wanted to believe in just yet until it being true was confirmed.

"Y-you're serious… a-about all of tha-at?" he asked with a strained voice, throat dry and scratchy from a need for water. His boss seemed to notice, a paper cup with a little water in it offered out to him. Mike downed it in seconds, almost choking on it was some went down the wrong pipe.

The Manager grumbled at little before rolling his eyes. "Yes, yes. I can't very well have a union worker spotting you and tearing me apart for working my employees into insomnia and poor physical health, now can I? You're of no use to anyone like this, and I need someone on their A-game if they're to guard this building once everyone else has gone home."

Mike saw the logic in that, feeling the happiness lighten the haze and ache of his everything. Something occurred to him, however, causing him to frown.

"Ah, m-mr, not to be rude or a-anything, but those robots-"

"Animatronics, Schmit." the older gentleman said curtly, tone sharp. Mike swallowed, feeling like he'd hit a nerve with that mistake.

"Eh heh- y-yeah, th-those things! Um, what I mean is- Are you going to be alright?"

The Manager's stare softened at the question, the genuine worry and concern for his well-being apparent and rather refreshing. He'd forgotten how selfless some people could be once they were shown a little leeway and a bit of kindness.

"Oh I'll be fine!" he waved a hand placatingly, reaching down into a drawer in his desk for a moment, sounding muffled. "After all, I've still got-" His face came back into view, and in his left hand he held a rather impressive-looking bat, "THIS!"

"Er, a-aren't weapons not allowed-?"

"Phft! I'm the manager of this place! It's one thing for someone I hire to be armed, that can give off the wrong impression. But me? There's very little I'm not exempt from, and having this 'ol gal with me to deal with any hooligans is fair game. After all, I am quite the old-timer to most of you young folk, so maybe just think of it as a multi-purposed walking stick."

Mike was taken aback at the sudden glee his boss was showing at the idea of using the bat. Though at least it meant that he didn't have to worry about his boss getting killed and resulting in him being out of a job.

Since it seemed that there wasn't anything left for hims to do, he began to get up when he recalled the thing in his arms. He gently placed it on the desk before taking a step back. The Manager glanced down at the bundle, confused as to what was inside of it. He shot Mike a questioning look.

"I found it on my way over to you. I- I um, didn't know if it was like the other robo- animatronics," he quickly corrected, "since it was so… bu-but since it had eyes and everything, I thought that, maybe it was a mini version of one of those machines or somethin'..." Mike shuffled a bit closer to the doorway, not as subtly as he'd have liked to believe. "It kind of freaked me out… It just didn't blink, and so I thought that- maybe- you'd want to know about it so it can get put back wherever it belongs."

The Manager unwrapped the sloppily made covering carefully. It was near impossible to be too wary when dealing with objects from this place, after all. He was surprised to find something he'd never expected to see:

The cupcake prop Chica would carry around, candle missing and most disconcerting, a beak on the front of it. The beak from the Toy series, something he'd never forget after seeing how it could become detached so easily the first time…

It looked akin to the chicken, if only because of the added beak, so he certainlyt could see where Mike's concerns were founded. However, it was what was peeking out of the corner of the beak that concerned him.

Face covered in a grim expression, before he told Mike to get out. Not needing to be told twice, the young man was out of the building in minutes, suddenly energetic once more at the prospect of having a guaranteed 48 hours of peace.

Which was more that the Manager could claim, as he pried open the beak a smidge to snatch what was inside. Once he had what he wanted, he pushed the jacket, hat and prop off to the corner of his desk. It was a piece of paper- old paper, like the back of one of the old paper placemats. And on it, words said this message:

~"**Breaky breaky~**

**You're breaking your promises**

**You're backstabbing our deals**

**You're snapping my patience**

**YOUR 2 Nights are going to be for real**

**If you never get him back for us again**."~

The lights flickered in his office, and his hand clenched the sturdy bat tighter, eyes darting about the secure room. An eerie, glitched laughter surrounded him, sounding sinister and familiar. He felt a hand with long finger with sharp ends land on his shoulder, and a small form press lightly against the upper part of his back, as if leaning over him. The voice sounded again, the faint echoes of a tune behind it,

"_**Lose our guard and**_ **YOU** _**will take his place**_."

The Manager resisted turning around, knowing it to be a death sentence is he did. It was apart of one of the 'deals' he'd been just barely manage to score a long time ago that let him these days skim by. The voice laughed again, one more time, sharp fingers digging in a little deeper to cause the man's jaw to clench at the pain.

"_**And we BOTH know you'd be blessed to make it 1 night, let alone 5. I hear Foxy's not too happy with how you've locked him within the Cove~! Cost us Mike, and I'm sure you 2 will get to 'talk' till the sky turns RED~!"**_

The mocking laughter faded away, leaving the shaken manager sitting alone in his office, in his chair. Wondering how much longer he can keep the place running with how threatening the secrets were to not only his business and employees, but even himself. A question he knew the answer to all too well if he couldn't keep up his end of the 'agreements'. He checked the camera for the Cove, just to settle his nerves a bit.

Only to find Foxy indeed glaring straight at him, an anger visible in the one yellow eye.

**An:** This is probably the one I'm the most unsure about, so feedback ESPECIALLY **wanted** with this one guys. Please?

What's Mike going to do now that he has a total max of 2 days away from Freddy's? How well will the Manager fair? To be discovered next time oh interested readers. I hope you enjoy this and what's to come!

**PS-**_PLEASE check out CH 8 again, it has been 'fixed', and there is a poll running to see if you guys want any of the Glitched Chapter included into the beginning of the chapter that's currently there. Please check it out at least, and any feedback is appreciated and welcome. Thank you for your time._


End file.
